


Pegasus Gym

by respoftw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 17:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17812619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: AU - After being kicked out of the Air Force, John finds work as a personal trainer at Pegasus Gym in Colorado Springs.  Trying to build a life outside the Air Force is harder than he thought it would be.  At least, it was until Rodney McKay walks into the gym.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> upfront warning: I have never stepped foot in a gym in my life.

John pulled into a parking space marked ‘employees only’ and tried to work up the will to exit the car.  Only a few short weeks ago he had been flying helicopters in Afghanistan and now…well, now he wasn't. Flipping down the driver's side sun visor, he squinted into the mirror there and winced at the dark bags underneath his eyes.  His eyes caught on the embroidered thread of his white polo shirt and he worried his hand over the letters, wondering how the hell he'd got from Afghanistan to here.   
  
Here was the car park of Pegasus Gyms in Colorado Springs, his new place of employment now that the Air Force had finally had enough of him.  Thirteen years of his life all gone thanks to one jackass new recruit who saw something he shouldn't have and decided to tell. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful for this job because he was.  He wasn't sure how he could ever repay Ronon and Teyla for everything they'd done for him these past few weeks, but none of it changed the fact that his life had just taken a detour into a place that he never thought he'd end up. It would take some getting used to.     
  
The buzzing of his phone interrupted his musing and John dragged his gaze away from the mirror to look at it.  A text from Ronon was waiting for him.   
  
**You gonna sit there on your ass all day or are we doin’ this?**   
  
John blew out a breath through his nose and pulled the keys out of the ignition.  Opening the door of his beat up old Camaro, he wasn't surprised to see Ronon leaning against the employee entrance, watching him.   
  
Ronon was dressed in his own white polo shirt, the muscles in his arms stretching the short sleeves almost to breaking point.   
  
“You look like shit,” Ronon said in greeting, pushing himself off the wall to help John with his gym bag.    
  
“Rough night,” John answered.  He didn't elaborate, didn't need to.  Ronon was ex-military too, he knew exactly how tough sleeping could be.  The slap on the back he gave John was proof enough that he understood, even if it didn't offer comfort so much as caused John to almost fall on his ass.     
  
“Sweat it out,” Ronon said, “it sure as hell beats talking about it.”   
  
“Don't let Teyla hear you say that,” John said, attempting joviality.  Privately, he agreed with Ronon but it wasn't something he would ever admit around Teyla.  Ronon may look mean but he was a giant puppy dog at heart while Teyla, at five foot nothing, was the really dangerous one in that particular partnership.   
  
Together they were the closest thing John had to family.   
  
Following Ronon into the building, he got his first good look at Pegasus Gym.  It was a perfect blend of its two owners, a strange aesthetic mix of Irish boxing club and new age spa that shouldn't have worked but somehow did. He knew from the information Teyla had sent him that the gym offered everything from MMA training to Spin Classes to Nutritional Health Groups.  And, of course, personal, one on one training. Not for the first time, John wondered what the hell he had let himself in for by agreeing to take the job as Pegasus Gym’s latest personal trainer.   
  
As if he could sense John's thoughts, Ronon turned around and grinned at him.      
  
“Just wait until you meet your clients.”    
  
Funny how that sounded more like a threat than a friendly welcome.

“Do not attempt to scare him off before he has even begun.”  Teyla’s gentle chastisement as she approached them caused Ronon to duck his head and John to grin.  

Teyla smiled at him in turn.  “It is good to see you, John,” she said, touching her forehead gently to his.  John wasn’t sure if the greeting, like the oddly formal way she spoke, came from the small Tanzanian tribe she grew up with or whether it was something unique to Teyla herself but he felt something settle in his chest at the familiar touch.

“It’s good to be here,” he said, almost meaning it.

Teyla’s sorrow tinged smile told him that she knew the slight falsehood in that statement but he could also tell that she was willing to let it go for now.  John appreciated that and endeavoured to have that hands-off approach last as long as possible.

“So,” he said, mustering up as much enthusiasm as he could, “what’s first?”

Ronon grinned as he handed John a pile of forms as thick as his thumb.  “First, you work up a sweat filling out these insurance forms.” 

Teyla placed a heavy binder on top of the stack of forms.  “And then you must familiarise yourself with the protocols and policies of the gym.”

Ronon laughed at whatever twist of displeasure had made itself known on John’s face and clapped him on the back again.  “Finish up by lunch and then we can start introducing you around the gym. Teyla posted your picture on our website last week and there’s already a waiting list for you.”

John blanched at that.  “What? Why?”

Ronon grinned wickedly, earning an elbow in the rib from Teyla.  “You’ll see.”   


* * *

  
By the end of the first week of his new career, the suburban housewives who seemed to make up the entirety of John’s clientele had long since blurred into one.  Most of them were more interested in the lemon-infused spring water or trailing their manicured hands over John’s biceps as he showed them the correct way to use the machines than getting in shape.     
  
“I believe you are what they term eye candy,” Teyla had said when John asked what was up with that.  “The ones who are not serious in their endeavours will soon lose interest, John. You must wait for the shine of the new to wear off.”   
  
As usual, Teyla was right.   
  
Before John knew it, he’d been working at Pegasus Gyms for three months and, while it would never come close to flying, it wasn’t as terrible as he had thought it would be.  He had a good group of regular clients, all of whom were seeing good results. People were requesting him because of his reputation now instead of as just the latest bit of eye candy.  Although why anyone requested him as eye candy when Ronon and Teyla worked there too, John would never understand.   
  
Working at the gym gave a structure to his days that he needed.  His mornings started at 4 am most days, a quick shower and a bite to eat followed by a run with Ronon.  Before he started working at the gym, he had been naive enough to think that he would no longer have to carve out time for his own exercise but after three months, Ronon’s booming laugh when he had voiced that particular thought made sense.  

A big portion of his day was spent watching  _ other _ people work out while he stood by and corrected their technique or adjusted the machines.  Aside from assisting Teyla in her Bantos class three times a week, his daily run with Ronon was the only regular exercise he could count on.

His days were then filled with clients or helping out with classes.  He knew he’d be expected to start leading his own classes soon but he was trying to put that off as long as he could.  Having that many people looking at him at one time felt a little too much like leading a platoon and John wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet.

During his first couple of weeks, he had spent his days off in the gym too, working out on his own.  Teyla had allowed it until the excuse that he was familiarising himself with all of the machines and classes stopped being believable; not that she’d bought it for a moment anyway. 

He spent a lot of his off time - when Teyla and Ronon weren’t dragging him to dinner or the movies - laying on his bed and listening to Johnny Cash, the barely opened copy of War and Peace that he’d bought at the airport laying on his chest.

He’d tried to watch TV, to catch up with all the shows and movies that he’d only heard about while he was deployed overseas but almost everything they showed these days had explosions in it and the one time John had tried he’d ended up huddling behind his up-ended couch thinking he was back in Kandahar.  

From the outside, he almost looked happy but even the most cursory of second looks disproved that pretty quickly.

He knew that Teyla worried; just like he knew that Ronon told her not to.  

He also knew that Ronon would only hold the inevitable off for so long. He could almost see the ticking clock in his friend's eyes.  His grace period was about to expire. 

John didn’t know what to do to make things better.  A shrink was the logical choice but he wasn’t ready to even admit his problems to himself so that was probably a non-starter.  

All John really knew was that something had to change.

And then he met Rodney.


	2. Chapter 2

“Lemon-infused water?  Are you trying to kill me?”

John’s head jerked up from his crossword at the raised voice.  It wasn’t often that he heard raised voices in his new line of work, except for those few clients who needed a bit of tough love.  Putting his crossword down, he watched with amusement as Teyla carefully managed what looked like a new client. The man was sweaty, his hair matted down in a way that highlighted the receding hairline.  John guessed that Teyla had just finished his orientation and warm-up exercises.

“Of course not, Dr McKay.  We offer a wide array of differently flavoured waters, all of which are clearly marked with known allergens.  Perhaps you would enjoy the cucumber infusion? It is very soothing.”

John bit down on a laugh.  He figured that was the closest he’d ever heard Teyla get to being rude to a gym member.  Dr McKay seemed to realise it too, his cheeks colouring with what could either be anger or embarrassment.  John watched as the doctor grabbed a bottle of the cucumber water, screwing the bottle top off and taking a long pull of it immediately.  Embarrassment, he decided, settling back in his seat at the front desk. He hadn’t even been aware that his body had tensed, ready for action; a muscle memory that would take a lot longer than a few months to forget.  Feeling faintly embarrassed himself, John plastered on a smile as he realised that Teyla and the new client were headed his way.

“John, I am glad you are here.  Allow me to introduce you to Dr Rodney McKay.  Dr McKay, this is John Sheppard. He is the best personal trainer we have on staff and I have no doubts that he will help you attain your goals if you let him.”

John stood up, reaching across the desk as he held his hand out in greeting.

Dr McKay just stared at it.  He looked back and forth between John and Teyla.  “He’s not exactly built, is he?”

“Hey,” John complained, trying not to take offence.  It wasn’t his fault he tended towards lean muscle.

For her part, Teyla merely smiled serenely.  “My apologies, Dr McKay. It would appear that I misunderstood your fitness goals.  If muscle mass is your aim I could introduce you to Ronon.” Teyla gestured in the direction of the free weights where Ronon was currently ‘encouraging’ a client to do another rep of twenty.  Ronon’s current client was one of those who needed a bit of tough love and his encouragement, in this case, involved a lot of yelling. John wasn’t surprised at all when Dr McKay’s face paled. 

“No, no, I’m sure Shemp here will be fine.”

“Sheppard,” John corrected.  “And I’m glad you think so.” He switched his attention to Teyla.  “I think I can take it from here,” he said, trying not to glare. There would be plenty of time to complain about being given the rude jackass later.

Teyla’s smile told him that she could read the promise in his eyes.  He already knew that he wouldn’t be winning that argument. John watched as Teyla left with a wave goodbye before turning to find McKay watching her leave as well.

McKay’s eyes were a fair bit lower than was socially acceptable but he at least had the decency to blush as he caught John glaring at him.  

“I, ah, I didn’t - I mean, I - she’s incredibly - “ McKay mimed curves with his hands.  

“She’s married,” John said, his tone probably a bit too clipped to be polite.

“To you?” McKay asked, looking John up and down appraisingly. 

John smiled, a little meanly, as he turned McKay around to face Ronon - who was still yelling ‘encouragement’ at his client.  “To him,” he said. 

McKay’s face paled slightly and he turned around quickly.  “Right, well, that makes more sense I suppose. Not that you’re not - - I mean, you’re a very attractive man.  Sort of slinky and lean and there’s the hair and - -”

“Maybe we should get started,” John interrupted.  

McKay looked relieved to have an excuse to stop babbling.  John was starting to suspect that any jackassery he had picked up on was possibly a byproduct of bad social skills rather than an indictment of the man’s character.  He certainly hoped so anyway. 

“Ah, yes, the torture portion of the visit,” McKay grumbled before squaring his surprisingly broad shoulders.  “So, where do we start?”

John ran his eyes down McKay’s body, wide shoulders almost lost in a far too oversized t-shirt that billowed around the waist but still managed to cling to the slightly soft belly thanks to a fold of fabric that was caught under the waistband of faded cotton jogging shorts.  The shorts were baggy, hiding John’s view of McKay’s bottom half. 

Figuring that they were probably safe starting with arms, all the better to ease McKay in to it, John guided him over to the chest press.  He patted the seat invitingly. “Ever used one of these?”

McKay glared at him.  “Do I look like I’ve ever used whatever that is?”

John’s eyes skimmed over McKay’s chest and shoulders again, possibly for a fraction too long if McKay’s slight blush was anything to go by.  They really were nice shoulders. 

Pulling his mind back to the task at hand ( _god, he really needed to get laid_ ), John quickly set the weight up at what he thought would be a manageable level and sat in the chair, pushing out a quick rep of ten chest presses.  “The motion on this machine is similar to a push-up,” he explained. “I presume you’ve done one of them before?”

McKay’s feet shuffled, almost as if he wanted to run away.  “Are you gonna judge me if I say not since high school?”

John smiled at that, finishing up on the machine.  “I get paid to train you, not to judge you. How long ago was high school anyway?”  McKay looked about the same age as him but it never hurt to ask.

“Ah, 23 years ago?”

John’s surprise must have shown because McKay quickly clarified. “I graduated high school at 12.”

“Some kind of genius, huh?  High school must have been tough on you at that age.”

McKay grimaced, his expression enough to tell John that 'tough' was a hell of an understatement.  “It was a long time ago. So, what does this machine work anyway?”

John knew a change of subject when he heard one and he was happy to play along. “Chest, biceps and triceps,” he answered. “If you’re serious about getting in shape, strengthening those muscles first will help with the more compound movements later.”

“So, what, I just sit there and push the bar?  And you just stand and watch me? Is that seriously what I’m paying you for?”

John stood up and pushed McKay down into the seat.  “To start with, yes. Then I’ll take you to some other machines and do the same.  I need to get an understanding of your current fitness levels before I - .”

“Unfit, ok?” McKay interrupted.  “There, I saved you some work.” He started to rise but John had anticipated that and he just pushed him back down.

“Look, Dr McKay - - what kind of doctor are you anyway?  You don’t strike me as the medical kind. Not with that bedside manner.”

“Bedside manner is the least of the reasons I’m not some voodoo practitioner,” McKay scoffed.  “I have three doctorates. Astrophysics, Mechanical Engineering and Applied Mathematics.”

John was impressed despite not wanting to be.  

“Right, well, why don’t you think of this first session as a control scenario to establish the baseline and then we can add new parameters and see how the data - that would be you - reacts?”

McKay looked completely unimpressed.    “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

John grinned.  He wasn’t sure why but the disdain dripping from McKay’s voice amused him rather than annoyed him.  He had a feeling that wasn’t most people’s reaction to McKay. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why he was reacting that way but this session was turning out to be the most fun John had had in - well, in a while.

Even McKay looked bewildered by John’s reaction, his temporary silence something that John wasn’t above taking advantage of.

“You’re _supposed_ to be doing a chest press for me.  Now, get to it.”

McKay grudgingly complied, mirroring John’s motion from earlier but managing to get it completely wrong.

“No,” John interrupted, moving to stand behind McKay.  He leaned over and grabbed McKay’s hands, moving them to the correct position and urging him to sit up straighter, feeling the solid lines of McKay's back against his skin. “Like that. Try again.”

McKay went through the motion again, this time showing perfect form.

John grinned.  “Hey, look at that.  You really are a genius.”

“Bite me,” McKay grumbled, startling a belly laugh out of John that only caused McKay to grumble louder.

* * *

Across the gym, the sound of John’s laughter carried to Teyla and Ronon who exchanged a relieved smile.  It had been far too long since they saw their friend anything approaching happy.


	3. Chapter 3

As much as he’d enjoyed the two hours he had spent trading quips with McKay, John hadn’t expected to see the man again.  Sometimes it was like that with the clients who signed up with the gym. They would show up for that first session, brimming with the best of intentions but then, once they got home, the reality of how much easier it was to just sit on their asses won over.  

Going by how red, sweaty and out of breath McKay had been by the end of their session (a look that didn’t have any right to be as good a one for a slightly overweight scientist), John had figured McKay for a one-session wonder.

It probably wasn’t the first time someone had underestimated McKay.

McKay had turned up for his second session, and his third, and before John knew it he found himself counting down to those four sessions a week like they were something to look forward to.

“He’s just another client,” he said, not for the first time, dodging a vicious blow from Teyla’s bantos rod.  The stick fighting was indigenous to the South Pacific Island Teyla had grown up on and was one of Pegasus Gym’s most popular classes.  John could see why, when he’d first started training with the sticks he’d been sore in places that he didn’t know could even hurt but now, after a few months, his body felt stronger than it had when he was in his prime.  He loved the bantos rods but he could do without the grilling that came with them.

“It is clear to both Ronon and I that he is more than that,” Teyla dodged John’s sticks easily, side-stepping gracefully, her long skirt trailing on the mats.  “You light up around him, John, in a way that I have not seen since you returned from war. You have closed yourself off for so long that you seem not to recognise your own happiness when it is standing in front of you. ”

“Fuck.” Teyla’s stick wrapped against his knuckles and John dropped one of his sticks, cursing.  Teyla stopped the attack immediately, reaching for John’s hand. He pulled it out of her reach. 

“John.”

“It’s fine.  Just a bruise.”  He shook his hand out, wincing at the way the air stung the red skin.  “And, as for the other thing, he’s a client. Just like all the housewives are clients.  I’m not ready for anyone to be more than that, ok? So, and I’m asking you this as nicely as I possibly can considering that you and Ronon are all I have and I don’t want to offend you; drop it.”

Teyla stepped close, reached up and brought John’s forehead down to rest against her own.  John leaned into it, accepting the apology.

“Put some ice on that hand,” she cautioned as she pulled back. “We will continue the  _ training _ another time.”

John smiled, grateful that the talking thing was being dropped for now.  Maybe they were right, maybe he did need a shrink to talk these things out with.  It had to hurt less than the alternative, he thought, shaking his aching hand.

* * *

“What the hell did you do to your hand?”

John grinned at the anger in McKay’s voice.  “Anyone told you how much your concern sounds like anger?” he teased.

McKay flushed red, before lifting his chin in a defiant lift that John had become familiar with over the past few weeks.  It was the same chin lift McKay did when John dared suggest that they should stop before the two hours were up.

“It had better not interfere with the training that I’m paying a small fortune for,” McKay sniffed.  His eyes lingered on the deep bruise on John’s hand and John realised that McKay actually _was_ concerned for him.

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice less teasing.  “Barely even hurts.”

“Hmm, well, I wish I could say the same,” McKay grumbled.  “Any chance we can do the whole session with me lying on my back this week?”

John nearly choked on a lungful of oxygen at the possibilities that sentence conjured up.

“Oh, very mature.  Get your mind out the gutter, Shemp.”

The ‘Shemp’ made John laugh like it always did.  He knew that McKay knew his name; their receptionist, Chuck, had admitted to him that McKay always confirmed his appointments with Sheppard when he phoned up but the whole 'Shemp' thing had become a running joke with them.  It felt good to have a running joke with someone other than Ronon and Teyla for a change. It had been too long since he’d had that with someone.

Ok, so maybe Teyla had a point but that didn’t mean that John was ready for something more than a casual flirtation.  He still couldn’t sleep through the night without screaming nightmares waking him up or watch an action movie without cowering at the loud noises.  He wasn’t ready for - - McKay was a client and nothing else.

Putting on his professional face, John looked at his client, saw the stiff way he was holding himself and immediately knew that he had been pushing him too hard.

“What’s wrong with your back?”

McKay rolled his eyes.  “Has anyone told you how much your anger sounds like concern?” 

John ignored him, pushing McKay down on a nearby bench and starting to lift his shirt up.  McKay was strangely compliant, letting John move his arms and barely wincing as John’s hands immediately zoned in on the tense muscles of his lower back.

“Rodney,” John hissed.  “How long has this been hurting?”

Rodney shrugged.  “I’ve had back problems for years.  Too long spending hunched over laptops and lab benches.  I thought this whole exercise thing was supposed to help it, not make it worse.”

“Yeah, well, eventually it will but that whole ‘things get worse before they get better’ thing is pretty damn apt when it comes to getting in shape."  John pushed Rodney's shirt down with a sigh.  "Of course, if someone had bothered to tell me about their bad back then maybe I could have mitigated some of it. Weren’t you supposed to be a genius?”  John sat on the bench next to Rodney, reaching a hand out to straighten the hem of Rodney’s t-shirt where it was still rolled up.   “I’m not a doctor but I know muscle strain when I see it.”

“So we go easy today,” Rodney said, standing up and doing his best not to wince.  “Look, I hate to admit it but this whole gym thing has actually been working for me.  I can take the stairs at work now without having to stop halfway up and there are a LOT of stairs where I work.  That may not seem like a big deal to you but it is to me and I’m getting closer every day to getting fit enough to go through the - - “  Rodney shut up and sighed, deflating. “I’m so close.”

John bumped his shoulder against Rodney’s, smiling.  “Melodrama much, McKay? I’m not saying you can never exercise again, just that we need to take it easier for a while.  Concentrate on building up your back strength, work some stretches into your routine and maybe get you signed up for a back massage once a week.”

“You offering to rub my back?” Rodney teased.

“Now whose mind is in the gutter?”  John stood up and offered Rodney a hand, pulling him to his feet.  “Let me show you some stretches.”

If John had thought Rodney had looked good, red, sweaty and using the strength of his broad shoulders, it was nothing compared to how Rodney looked twisting himself into pretzel shapes.

Rodney’s jogging shorts were always long and loose so John hadn’t ever really gotten a good look at Rodney’s ass until he was guiding Rodney through a particular set of stretches that involved Rodney bending forward at a ninety-degree angle and the way that the jersey fabric stretched tight to the generous curve of Rodney’s ass was a revelation.

Ronon, of course, had chosen that moment to walk past and John had to bite down on a growl at the appreciative glance that his friend had given that ass.  

Maybe John wasn’t ready but, damn, if he didn’t find himself wanting to be.

“Hey, Rodney?”

Rodney was much less sweaty after this session but no less mouth watering as he turned to look at John on his way to the showers.

“You like science fiction, right?”

Rodney’s eyebrow raised in surprise.  “Was it the multiple times I asked you if you were watching BSG that gave it away?”

John grinned.  “That and the Farscape t-shirt.”  

“I thought you didn’t watch TV?”

“I don’t,” John said.  He took a deep breath and expanded that standard answer for the first time since he’d left Afghanistan.  “The, ah, well, the explosions and the lights and the loud noises...it, well, it’s hard after being in combat.”

John had expected a lot of things from Rodney on hearing that, the top of the list being a lengthy rant about the uselessness of the American military - he’d listened to Rodney rant about everything else American enough, including the pronunciation of the letter ‘Z’ - but what he hadn’t expected was the look he saw on Rodney’s face.  It wasn’t just a look of acceptance, it was one of...understanding?

“So,” John cleared his throat, “I was thinking maybe you had some book recommendations? Ease me back into it without the visual or auditory stimulation?”

Rodney smiled, his mouth slanting downwards.  “Give me your email.”

John rattled it off and Rodney promised to have a list for him by that night.

“You’re going to regret asking for this” Rodney joked.

John waited until Rodney was safely out of earshot in the locker room before answering.  “No. I don’t think I will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is melodrama

Rodney’s first email appeared in John’s inbox at 3.43am the next morning.  The ping from his laptop was a welcome distraction, something to take his mind off of the way his heart was still pounding and his breathing was still ragged from the nightmares.  

There were 343 book recommendations on the email; an email that was titled ‘To start with’.  The sheer volume made John laugh, the noise sounding loud in the quiet of his dark apartment. He pulled the list up and started looking through Barnes and Noble’s website, adding the more interesting recommendations to his shopping basket.  He fell asleep long before he was finished, a quiet, undisturbed sleep for the first time in months.

Rodney’s second email came the next afternoon; ‘A few more suggestions’ that included another 108 books.  

Rodney’s third email wasn’t about books at all; it was a rant about someone called Dr Lee and the sheer stupidity that Rodney had been forced to put up with from the man.  John would almost have thought that Rodney had sent to him by accident except for how it was addressed to ‘Shemp’.

John replied with an account of his latest run-in with a 40-something housewife who was flabbergasted to realise that hiring a personal trainer meant more than just sipping flavoured water while looking at something pretty.

Rodney’s fourth, fifth and sixth emails came in quick succession; each one proclaiming him an idiot although the sixth one at least admitted that he was a pretty idiot.  

And just like that, exchanging emails with Rodney became another part of his day.  Rodney seemed to have a schedule as strange as John’s. Emails were as likely to arrive after 2 am as they were during the day.  Rodney’s work wasn’t something that they had ever spoken of at the gym but his emails started to paint a picture that was somewhat different from the academic or lab-based occupation that John had assumed.

A lot of Rodney’s emails mentioned someone called Sam; the beautiful, incorrigible, in no way smarter than Rodney, Samantha Carter.  John had assumed that she was another scientist but then, somewhere in the seventeenth paragraph of email number 29, Rodney referred to her as Major Carter and John...well, John felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

John snapped his laptop closed and pushed it as far across the bed as it would go and put his head between his knees and tried very hard to breathe.

He didn’t reply to email number 29.  Or numbers 30 to 37. He couldn’t. Rodney was military; or maybe _he_ wasn’t but it was clear he worked with them and - - John hadn’t told him much about his past but it was more than he had told anyone else.  It was more than even Teyla and Ronon knew. He had told Rodney about his triggers - first as a guide to help with the book recommendations and then, later, just to talk about them. It had felt good to talk about them.

Maybe that’s why Rodney’s failing to mention that he worked with the military felt like a betrayal.

* * *

“What’s with the face?  Thought today was a McKay day?”

Ignoring someone as large and boisterous as Ronon was next to impossible but John did his best, keeping his focus on the paperwork in front of him.

“Yeah, about that.  I’m swamped with these insurance forms, think you can take McKay today?”  John did his best to keep his voice even, the pressure he was exerting on the pen in his hand hard enough that the plastic casing threatened to crack.

“You two had a lover's quarrel or something?” Ronon teased, pulling the paperwork out from underneath John’s pen.  

“I’m just busy.”  John grabbed at the paperwork, pulling it back.  

Ronon’s eyebrow raised in surprise.  “Must have been some quarrel, sure you can’t kiss and make up?”

“For the last goddamn time, he is a client.  Not my friend, certainly not my boyfriend. A goddamn client whose bitching and moaning I have to put up with and have I mentioned how you don’t pay me damn near enough to put up with his crap?  So why don’t you do me a favour and leave me with this paperwork and take McKay off my damn hands? He can be your problem for a change.”

“John.” Ronon’s voice was soft, softer than John had ever heard it and he knew immediately that it meant that Rodney was right behind him.  That Rodney had heard the cruel, hurtful lies that John had said.

_Fuck._

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Ronon said, squeezing John’s shoulder.  

John nodded tightly and there was silence while they waited for Ronon to leave.  There was silence afterwards as well. John wasn’t used to silence when Rodney was around.  It felt strange. Wrong.

“How much of that did you hear?” John asked, not looking around.

“Too much,” Rodney answered.  The silence came back for a long moment before John heard Rodney draw in a deep breath.  “I know that I’m not an easy man to like. Petty, arrogant, bad with people. I know that.  I’ve always told myself it comes with being a genius but obviously I’m not as much of a genius as I thought because I actually thought that you were my friend.”

John sucked in a sharp breath.  “Rodney.”

“No, it’s fine.  It’s...it is what it is.  I was going to cancel my contract with you soon anyway.  You - you did a good job. My fitness levels are up to where I need them to be to let me - - do what I need to do.  So, thank you, Sheppard. For that.”

The _Sheppard_ cut into John like a knife.  

“Rodney, wait.”

It was too late.  Rodney was gone.

* * *

**From: SheppardJohn@aol.com**

**To: TripleDoc@hotmail.com**

**Date: 06/01/2003 23:14:00**

**Subject: So here’s the thing; I’m an ass.**

So here’s the thing; I’m an ass.  Those things you heard me say? I didn’t mean them.  Not a single one.

Your last email, the last one before I stopped replying - you called that woman, the one who is probably smarter than you no matter how often you say she isn’t -  by her rank and I realised that you work for the military and I’m not good with the military right now.

They kicked me out for being gay.  My record didn’t matter. The missions I’ve flown, the people I’ve saved - none of that mattered as much as who I’m sexually attracted to and now I work in a gym while I have to figure out what the hell I should do with the rest of my life.  Oh, and I’m pretty sure I have some kind of PTSD which is really just the icing on the damn cake.

And then I met you.

And you are more than a client, Rodney.

You’re my friend.  You’re - I thought maybe - when I’m ready - you might even let me be more than that.  You’re the best part of my shitty day and then you wrote the word Major and I got pissed.  I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me you worked with the military but that’s my problem, not yours.

So, that’s the thing.  I’m an ass.

You’re the best part of my day, Rodney.  Please don’t take that away.

  * Shemp.



* * *

**From: TripleDoc@hotmail.com**

**To: SheppardJohn@aol.com**

**Date: 07/01/2003 02:36:14**

**Subject: Re: So, here’s the thing; I’m an ass.**

Shemp,

You’re right; you’re an ass.  But so am I. I should have told you.  I meant to tell you. I was going to tell you but then I got worried that you would take it badly and, wow, was I right.  

I don’t have much experience in this whole friendship thing so I don’t know how these things usually work but why don’t we just agree that we both acted like asses and call it even?

You’re the best part of my day too.

I’m about to go on a work trip.  It’s somewhere pretty exotic actually, I wish I could tell you where but you know what the military is like.

Maybe when I’m back we could meet up.  For a drink? Not a date because I get that you’re not ready but, for the record, when you are?  I would definitely, without reserve, let you be more than a friend.

So, a drink?  I’m due back on the 6th.  

  * Rodney



* * *

**From: SheppardJohn@aol.com**

**To: TripleDoc@hotmail.com**

**Date: 07/01/2003 02:37:14**

**Subject: Re: Re: So here’s the thing; I’m an ass.**

A drink would be great.

* * *

**From: SheppardJohn@aol.com**

**To: TripleDoc@hotmail.com**

**Date: 07/01/2003 02:37:26**

**Subject: Re: Re: So here’s the thing; I’m an ass.**

Thank you

* * *

**From: SheppardJohn@aol.com**

**To: TripleDoc@hotmail.com**

**Date: 07/06/2003 18:03:02**

**Subject: Still on for a drink?**

Just say when, buddy.

* * *

**From: SheppardJohn@aol.com**

**To: TripleDoc@hotmail.com**

**Date: 07/06/2003 23:07:17**

**Subject: FW: Still on for a drink?**

Maybe you got in late today.  Email me once you’re done catching up on your beauty sleep.  I’ve actually been sleeping better. Went to a shrink; got some pills.  Good news is that I’m getting more sleep. Bad news; no more early morning conversations.

Good night buddy.

* * *

**From: SheppardJohn@aol.com**

**To: TripleDoc@hotmail.com**

**Date: 07/08/2003 03:13:36**

**Subject: FW: Still on for a drink?**

Rodney?  You’re starting to worry me now.  If you’ve changed your mind about the drink, at least let me know you’re ok?

* * *

**From: SheppardJohn@aol.com**

**To: TripleDoc@hotmail.com**

**Date: 07/09/2003 18:12:44**

**Subject: FW: Still on for a drink?**

Rodney, please let me know you’re ok?  Please.


	5. Chapter 5

Google claimed that Major Samantha Carter, USAF, worked on a deep space telemetry project out of Cheyenne Mountain.  John was pretty sure that was bullshit, the government didn’t waste an officer of Carter’s obvious ability on something like that.  A skilled pilot with over one hundred hours logged in enemy space during the Gulf War, a pristine record and they had her wasting away on deep telemetry?  No way was John buying that.

It did, however, give him someplace to start.

Or it would have if he could get past the damn receptionist on the telephone.

“Godfuckingdamnit,” John slammed the phone receiver down with enough force that he felt it in his wrist.

It had been a week since Rodney was due back from his trip.  A week in which John’s sleep, which had been getting better, had been practically non-existent.  It was wearing on him, the lack of sleep, the lack of news and, worst of all, the lack of Rodney.

Samantha Carter was the key, John was sure of it.  She was the only person Rodney had ever mentioned by their full name and John knew that if he found her, he would find Rodney.  

Glaring at the phone didn’t help so John turned his attention back to the computer in front of him.  A mewling meow drew his attention down to the floor where Rodney’s cat was winding its way through his legs in a figure eight.

Sighing, John pushed up from the chair, lifting the cat with him.  

“Hungry again?  No wonder Rodney keeps you, you’re him in cat form.”

John let Mahler down as he headed towards the small kitchen.  He opened a smelly pouch of cat food and filled Mahler’s bowl with it, laying it down on the tile floor for Mahler to inhale.

He was probably going to have explain the cat to someone at some point.

The thing was, it may have been slightly unethical for John to look Rodney’s address up in the Pegasus Gym records but he hadn’t known what else to do.  Rodney was three days late by that point and John’s emails remained unanswered and John knew something bad had happened. Sure, there was a small part of him that though maybe Rodney was just blowing him off but it was almost always drowned out by the part of him that was yelling that there was something wrong.  

The police wouldn’t take him seriously, wouldn’t look beyond the fact that, on the surface, all that had happened was a guy skipping out on the gym so he hadn’t been left with many choices.  He had violated Rodney’s privacy and taken his address from the client records. Teyla would probably kill him if she found out but John figured it was with the risk if it helped him find out if Rodney were ok.

Rodney’s apartment was on the ground floor which had made peering in the windows much easier than it would have otherwise been.  There was no sign of anyone having been there recently and John had been debating whether attempting to jimmy the lock was taking things too far when Rodney’s neighbour started yelling about no good astrophysicists who asked people to look after their cat for a few days when they meant a week and - - well, by the end of it John found himself heading back to his own apartment with no answers and a very grumpy, obviously spoiled cat.

And still no Rodney.

With Mahler happily occupied with food, John sat back in front of his computer and picked up the phone again.  He had been putting this particular call off for a lot longer than Rodney had been missing but it wasn’t just about him anymore.  If making this call could help find Rodney then John had to make the call, that was all there was to it.

John took a deep breath and dialled.  The ringing in his ear was loud and harsh and all too soon it was broken by a clipped “Hello, Sheppard Industries.”

John cleared his throat.  “Dave Sheppard please.”

“I’m sorry,” the clipped voice continued, “Mr  _ David _ Sheppard doesn’t take unsolicited phone calls, what is the nature of - -”

“Tell him it’s his brother calling.  Tell him it’s John. He’ll take my call.”

God, John hoped that was true.

“One moment please.”

John barely had time to recognise the call waiting music as Beethoven before Dave’s voice sounded in his ear for the first time in ten years.

“John?  This had better not be some kind of joke.  Is it really you?”

“Yeah, Dave, it’s me.  It’s - - I need a favour.”  John held his breath and waited.  He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for; yelling, most likely.  Anger over walking away and cutting all ties, anger over not making any effort to keep in touch with his little brother when it was his father who he hated.  What he didn’t expect was kindness.

“Anything you need John.  Anything.”

* * *

Sheppard Industries had expanded into military contracts at some point during the past decade.  John couldn’t help but wonder if his own decision to join the military had something to do with that decision but that was something that could wait until another time.  What was important now was that the Sheppard Industries logo had been buried at the bottom of a press release John had found on the workings of the Cheyenne Mountain deep space telemetry program.  

Dave had promised to do what he could and John, in turn, had promised to come and visit once everything was sorted.  Apparently, he’d become an Uncle over the last decade, twice. A niece and a nephew that Dave obviously adored. 

“This Rodney?” Dave had asked.  “He’s important to you?”

“Yeah,” was the only answer John could give, ridiculous as it was.  He barely knew Rodney, hadn’t even known the guy had a cat, didn’t even know what he did for a living but - - yeah.  Rodney was important.

Dave must have understood exactly what that ‘yeah’ meant because, barely two hours later, a knock sounded at John’s front door.

“Major Sheppard, I’m - -”

“I know who you are, Major Carter,” John interrupted.  “Is he ok?”

Carter’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Wow, so you really went to all this trouble for McKay.  I mean, I know that’s what your calls have been about and it’s what your brother said but - - I guess Jack was wrong.  Wait, is that Mahler?”

John picked up the traitorous cat before he could wrap himself around Carter’s legs.

“Is he ok?” he asked again.

Carter’s amused smile turned serious.  “Dr McKay was injured during his trip. It was serious but he’s going to be fine.  He’s stronger than he looks but then I guess we have you to thank for that, don’t we?”

John shook his head in disagreement.  “Not me. That’s all Rodney. He’s - he’s really ok?”

Carter smiled again, more kindly this time.  “You want to see for yourself, Major?”

* * *

Rodney looked awful.  His skin was pale as paper, the only colour that John could see came from the dark bruises that seemed to swallow up most of Rodney’s face.  White bandages peeked out from the deep vee neck of Rodney’s scrubs and John knew that Major Carter’s claim that whatever had happened had been serious was a hell of an understatement.

“I, ah, I might miss the next few training sessions” Rodney joked weakly as John stood aghast in the doorway.

“What the hell Rodney?”  John moved slowly into the private infirmary room.  They were deep underground in the Cheyenne Mountain complex and although John hadn’t seen anything more than some corridors, two elevators and this room he could tell that something a hell of a lot more important than deep space telemetry was being carried out here.  He sat heavily on the chair that was placed next to Rodney’s bed and reached out tentatively, suddenly unsure.

Rodney rolled his eyes and took John’s hand in his own, squeezing tightly.

“So, I heard you stole my cat.  You have no idea how close I was to getting whatever numbskull in this mountain whose job it was to pick him up from my neighbours fired.  You better be treating him right.”

“Rodney.”

“Look, John, I’m sorry but I can’t tell you what happened.  You have no idea what a big deal it is that they even let you in here.  If your name wasn’t Sheppard they probably would have had you disappeared for all the questions you were asking.  And here, all this time I thought your name was Shemp.”

John couldn’t help but smile at that.

“You could have emailed y’know.  Just to say you were ok?”

“With what?  The power of my mind?  The voodoo practitioner they have looking after me seems to think that typing might put me back into a coma or something.”

“A coma! What the - “  John stood up, his chair scraping back and banging into a table behind him knocking several items to the floor.  “You were in a damn coma?”

“As gratifying as it is to see someone other than me think of that as a big deal, you want to try not and wreck the place?”

“Sorry,” John muttered.  Kneeling down, he started to gather the fallen items in his hand.  The last one, an oval-shaped crystal, started to glow gently as soon as he touched it.  “Huh,” he said, showing it to Rodney. “Cool.”

“Oh my God!”  Rodney tried to move, groaning in pain almost immediately.  “Oh my God.” 

John dropped the item and moved to his side, his hands hovering over Rodney’s body.  “Are you ok? Does it hurt? Should I get the doctor?”

“No, I mean, yes, it hurts.  I almost died if you didn’t realise but that’s not what - - pick it up again.  The crystal. Pick it up again.”

John did, watching with curiosity as it glowed again.

“Oh my god,” Rodney breathed.  “You - John - you have - - “ Rodney turned his wide, blue eyes to look at John.  “I’m about to change your life forever.”

John dropped the crystal on the bed and leaned over to rest his forehead against Rodney’s own.  He placed a small, chaste kiss against Rodney’s lips before leaning back

“You said you weren’t ready,” Rodney protested weakly.

“That was before you disappeared.”  John leaned over for another kiss, pulling back reluctantly when Rodney’s moans started to sound a little more pain than pleasure.  

“And, for the record, the whole ‘changing my life’ thing?  You already have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done! Thank you for the encouragement to finish this. My writing has started to flow a bit more easily, hopefully that continues as I have lots more stories I want to tell.


End file.
